


Less Than a Mile

by kuhlaine



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:14:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25616449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuhlaine/pseuds/kuhlaine
Summary: In which Kurt messages Blaine on Grindr when he gets locked out of his apartment.
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel
Comments: 52
Kudos: 153





	Less Than a Mile

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy! This is based on a [post](https://slayediest.tumblr.com/post/624902447371059200/and-they-say-grindr-is-a-hookup-app-imagine-your) I saw circling around on Tumblr (credit goes to snarkyhag specifically for Klaine-ifying the post in the tags!). This one is dedicated to my ever amazing beta, Adri, who sent me the post in the first place!

It’s Sam’s idea, really – he swears. Blaine is a romantic, and a hopeless one at that. He loves meet-cutes and longing looks from across a room and serendipity. He’s not one for flings, quick and dirty or otherwise – he’s been looking for something long term since he was finally old enough to understand what being in love _really_ means.

His relationship with Jeremiah had, at one point, felt like the type of love story novels and ballads were written about. Nearly crashing into one another at a Starbucks on the first day of class, meeting for a second time that night at a Drama department mixer – it was Hollywood picture perfect. Blaine, painfully single and struggling to feel at home in such an enormous city, had latched onto the hope that Jeremiah was the one just a bit too eagerly.

They had a good run though, on and off throughout college. Sure, Jeremiah had cheated once… well, twice, but he claimed the second time didn’t _really_ count because they were on a break. But still, a good run. But after getting back together with Jeremiah (again), and Jeremiah promptly dumping him two months later… again, Blaine finally admitted that it was time to try something new.

Sam is a self-proclaimed ‘wizard’ when it comes to dating apps. He’s run the gamut – from Tinder, to Bumble, to Hinge, and even a brief stint on Seeking Arrangement. It’s fun, he says. Even if he’s yet to find a long-lasting connection, he’s meeting new people, and getting the occasional ego boost in the process. What Sam neglects to factor in to his success when it comes to dating is that he’s also an aspiring model with abs of steel. Blaine, a broke grad student who indulges his guilty pleasure for cronuts more often than he probably should, likely won’t have the same success that he’s had.

But Sam insists – and Sam is nothing if not persistent. They start off slow – Sam guides him through setting up his Tinder account, spending nearly an hour crafting the perfect bio.

“You’ve gotta make yourself seem mysterious, make guys want to ask you stuff, know what makes you tick. But not too mysterious, because then you’ll just look pretentious. But you can’t give too much away – because then you just seem too eager,” he explains as though it’s common sense.

Blaine finds the entire process incredibly confusing, but he does have a pleasant conversation with a couple of guys, so he remains optimistic. He even lets Sam convince him to branch out to a few other apps.

“What about Grindr?” Sam proposes as they finish setting up Blaine’s Hinge profile.

“Uh, I don’t know that Grindr’s my scene,” he answers shyly.

“It can be a lot sometimes, but it’s pretty cool most of the time.”

Blaine doesn’t question how Sam knows so much about Grindr, but he does bookmark that tidbit of info for later. “I don’t know,” he replies lamely.

“Hey, you said you wanted to put yourself out there – so, put yourself out there,” Sam insists before snatching Blaine’s phone out of his hand.

Blaine doesn’t bother trying to grab his phone back – Sam has both height and muscle on him, it’s not a battle he can win. Sam hands him his phone back once the app has finished downloading with a cocky smirk. “You can thank me later.”

* * *

Blaine’s dating app endeavors don’t pan out the way he’d hoped. He matches with a couple of guys that catch his eye, but most of them prove too good to be true. Sebastian, a stock broker who lives in Queens, turned out to be an obnoxious trust fund brat, Dave, a cop from Brooklyn, voted for Trump in 2016, and Hunter, a student at Columbia Law, casually revealed that he couldn’t commit to anything serious until he kicked his cocaine addiction.

After three weeks of cycling through the various apps Sam downloaded for him, all Blaine winds up with is a hopeless crush on the one person he deems off limits.

Within seconds of clicking on his profile, Blaine is confident that Blackbird43 is the most stunning man on the face of the planet. A jaw and cheekbones sculpted by angels, eyes as clear blue as the sea, and thick honey golden brown hair swooped high up to the heavens that sent him.

Blaine’s half convinced he isn’t real – he’s run into his fair amount of fake profiles in just the few short weeks he’s been out on the virtual dating scene, but there’s something authentic about the single photo on his profile. It’s casual – a candid shot of him smiling at something just out of frame. It’s not the cut-straight-from-a-magazine type of photo that Blaine’s come to associate with fake accounts – though that’s not to say that Blackbird43 doesn’t look like he should be gracing the cover of every magazine.

But, like with all of the promising men Blaine’s found so far, Blackbird43 is too good to be true. Blaine doesn’t bother paying attention to distance while checking out profiles. He’ll happily travel to meet up with the right person – which is why he neglects to notice that Blackbird is less than a mile away.

After agonizing for days over what to say to start a conversation, Blaine enlists Sam’s help in constructing the perfect opening message – but they come up empty even after hours of brainstorming. Sam proposes they put it off until tomorrow, when they can loop in their third roommate, Tina, for additional guidance. Blaine agrees with a sigh, putting aside his fantasies of a life in the countryside with Blackbird for the night.

While checking the mail the following morning, Blaine nearly collapses when Blackbird43 walks up to the mailbox to his right. All of his manners fly out the window as his jaw hangs open in shock. He has the good sense to shut his mouth the split second before Blackbird looks up from the stack of envelopes to give him a polite smile before turning on his heels and heading into the building. Blaine sags onto the row of mailboxes as he watches Blackbird walk away with all the grace of a world class dancer.

Once he regains his composure he glances over at the mailbox Blackbird just emptied. So, Blackbird’s name is Kurt – or technically it could also be Rachel, but he’s putting his money on Kurt – and he lives in apartment 3B. As wonderful as it is to finally stop referring to his dream man by his username, that knowledge comes with a price.

It would be awkward to message Kurt now, Blaine tells himself. It would look like he went out of his way to find Kurt’s profile, or worse – made a profile specifically to talk to him. The last thing he wants is for Kurt to feel unsafe or uncomfortable in his own apartment building.

But that doesn’t mean he can’t keep hopelessly dreaming until he finds someone new.

* * *

“Dude, you can’t do that!” Sam protests when Blaine manages to cut him off, sending Yoshi spiraling off of Rainbow Road.

“I can and I will,” he gloats as he crosses the finish line and lifts himself off of the couch for a well-deserved victory lap to the kitchen.

“Can you grab me another White Claw?” Sam calls out, yelping when the can Blaine tosses nearly hits him in the head. “Ugh, do we have anything besides black cherry?” he asks with a groan.

“We had one mango left, but losers get black cherry,” Blaine taunts as he cracks open the last of the mango White Claws.

Sam rolls his eyes, but accepts his defeat. “You got a message by the way,” he adds after he takes his first sip.

“From who?” He and Sam had abandoned boundaries when it comes to one another’s text messages long ago.

“Grindr,” he says, reaching out to examine more closely. “Some guy named uh… Blackbird43?”

Blaine nearly drops his drink, sputtering as he swallows his mouthful of seltzer down the wrong pipe, coughing and gasping for breath. Sam quickly rushes to his aid, patting him on the back until his cough has mostly subsided.

“I knew you were single, but I didn’t think you were _that_ single,” Sam teases, swiping Blaine’s mango White Claw when he’s sure he’s not looking.

“Shut up,” Blaine snaps, rushing back to the couch to retrieve his phone. Sure enough, he has a new message from none other than Blackbird43. _Kurt_.

_Hi! I know this might seem odd – but I’m actually your neighbor. Sort of – I live on the third floor. I’m actually locked out of the building right now. Would you mind opening the front door? I promise this isn’t some kind of convoluted plan to scam you or steal your kidney._

Blackbird43 – Kurt – includes a photo for proof, not that Blaine wouldn’t have believed him without it. It’s a selfie of him sitting on the front stoop, pointing over his shoulder to the number above the front door. It’s quite possibly the most adorable selfie ever taken, but Blaine doesn’t have time to dwell on that.

_Yeah totally! I’ll be right down._

He sends the response as quickly as he can before darting off to the hallway, scrambling to pull on his shoes and grab his keys and wallet (just to be safe).

“If I knew you were going to abandon me this easily for a booty call I wouldn’t have downloaded any of those apps for you,” Sam shouts from across the hall.

“It’s not a booty call,” Blaine calls back. “If I’m not back in 15 minutes call the police.”

Sam opens his mouth to protest whatever quest his roommate is about to set off on, but the door slams open and shut before he can.

* * *

It seems fitting that the one time Rachel decides to go to bed at a reasonable hour is the one time the lock to the front door of their building decides to stick. It’s the last thing Kurt needs after a 10-hour shift at the diner, but if he’s learned anything from the last three months he’s spent living in New York – when it rains, it torrentially downpours.

After seven of his calls to Rachel go straight to voicemail, he starts to consider his options. He knows all too well that the buzzers have all been on the fritz for the past month. He could attempt to scale the building using the fire escape – he’s pretty sure Rachel left her window open. But that would mean risking 1) someone calling the cops and having him arrested for breaking and entering or 2) Rachel waking up and pepper-spraying him. He decides it’s not worth the risk.

He tries calling the landlord, but like with Rachel all of his calls go straight to voicemail. He wouldn’t be surprised if the landlord was purposefully ignoring his calls – Kurt had recently sent him several _very_ strongly worded emails about his negligence when it comes to removing the building’s trash.

At first, he thinks of messaging BWarbler as more of a joke – it would certainly be a unique way to break the ice, and it would mean he could finally stop agonizing over what to say to kick off a conversation with him. But he quickly brushes the idea off as creepy and something that would push the unspoken boundary that comes with online dating.

But fifteen minutes go by and he starts to realize that no one is going to walk out of the building at this hour, and suddenly messaging BWarbler doesn’t begin to sound like a bad idea. He composes five different messages of various lengths, some with emojis, some without, and some with far too many exclamation points. He angles his selfie very carefully, making sure to get his good side and hide the bags under his eyes as best he can. He considers a filter, but it looks like he’s trying too hard. But he still takes a couple more, just to be safe.

He’s well aware that he’s severely overthinking this, but if he doesn’t then he may both embarrass himself in front of his super cute neighbor and still remain stranded outside of his apartment.

Thankfully, BWarbler replies within a minute. If he weren’t overworked and on the brink of exhaustion, Kurt might even let out a squeal of excitement. He quickly stands back up, brushing off his jeans and using the bit of glass on the front door to try and make himself look less like he’s been on his feet slinging burgers all day. His cheeks warm as he watches BWarbler jog to the door, pulling it open with a wide smile – unfairly handsome for such a late hour.

“Hi,” BWarbler says with a grin.

“Hey,” Kurt replies excitedly.

They both stand there in silence for a moment before Blaine jumps suddenly, stepping out of the doorway so Kurt can get into the building.

“Thank you again, you’re a life saver,” Kurt says as he steps into the warmth of the entryway. “You live on the second floor, right?” He knows BWarbler lives on the second floor – he once trailed behind him as he walked up the stairs, keeping a polite distance so he wouldn’t spook him.

“Yeah, I do. My name’s Blaine,” BWarbler – Blaine! – says, holding out his hand.

“Kurt.” He takes Blaine’s hand and does his best not to dwell on the strength of Blaine’s grip.

“I know,” Blaine replies, going beet red as he realizes what he’s just said. “I mean, I uh – from your mailbox,” he adds

“Oh.” Kurt peeks over Blaine’s shoulder at the row of mailboxes lining the wall behind them. He’s not ashamed to admit that he’d taken a peek at Blaine’s mailbox to try to figure out what the B in BWarbler stood for. “So are you the Anderson or the Evans?” he asks, shamelessly pointing to Blaine’s mailbox and inadvertently revealing that he’s a creepy stalker who knows which apartment is his.

But Blaine doesn’t seem to mind – in fact, he looks relieved, laughing softly before answering, “Anderson. Blaine Anderson.”

“Ah, so not Warbler after all,” he teases. He’s not sure where all this confidence is suddenly coming from – but hey, it seems to be working!

“No, sorry to disappoint,” he says with a shy shrug. “And I’m guessing you’re not Kurt Blackbird?”

“Sadly no. Just Kurt Hummel.”

Blaine smiles, the apples of his cheeks flushed pink. “Kurt Hummel – I like it.”

If Kurt wasn’t already head over heels for this stranger, then he certainly is now. “Do you think maybe I could buy you a coffee some time? As a thank you for letting me in,” he offers. He decides that he’s already out of his comfort zone, so why not take another leap of faith.

“Yeah!” Blaine answers quickly, eyes alight with excitement. “I’d love that.”

“Awesome,” Kurt replies casually (he hopes), his cheeks beginning to ache as he smiles wider than he has all month. “I’ll text you.”

“Yeah, that’s great. Awesome,” Blaine says before taking a hesitant step towards the staircase. “I’ll uh – I’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah,” Kurt replies, waiting until Blaine is safely up the stairs to let out an uninhibited celebratory cheer. Turns out his night isn’t so bad after all.

* * *

Sam looks up in surprise at the sound of the door slamming shut again. “Do I still need to call the police?”

Blaine ignores him, rushing into the living room with an ecstatic smile on his face. “I have a date!” he announces.

“You do?” Sam asks, brow wrinkled in confusion. “You were gone for like five minutes.”

“Remember that guy I told you about? The one who lives in this building?”

“The one with Jimmy Neutron hair?”

Blaine rolls his eyes before nodding. “He accidentally locked himself out of the building, and he messaged me to let him in, and he offered to buy me coffee as a thank you and… Oh my god…” he trails off, eyes widening in horror. “I forgot to get his phone number!”

“Calm down,” Sam reassures when Blaine begins to panic, standing back up and grasping Blaine by the shoulders. “This isn’t the end of the world.”

“How am I going to make plans with him if I don’t have his number?!”

“Blaine… did you already forget how you two met in the first place?”

Blaine nods slowly as the puzzle pieces click together, sheepishly pulling out of Sam’s grip as he mumbles a quick thanks and heads off to his room before he can embarrass himself any more than he already has. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, surprised to find a new message already waiting for him.

_Blackbird43: In case it wasn’t already painfully obvious that I’m very rusty when it comes to this sort of thing: mind if I get your number?_

“For the record, I’m taking credit for this – and you can thank me by making me the best man at your wedding!” Sam shouts through Blaine’s bedroom doors.

Blaine rolls his eyes and brushes him off – but, two years and seven months later, he does exactly that.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! :)


End file.
